


A Homecoming

by FloingMachines



Category: Florence + the Machine
Genre: A little?, Companion to my last fic??, F/F, With a capital G, this is gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-22
Updated: 2017-06-22
Packaged: 2018-11-17 06:33:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11269965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FloingMachines/pseuds/FloingMachines
Summary: Isa comes back to London, but for longer this time.





	A Homecoming

**Author's Note:**

> This has semicolons. Two to be exact, I think.

            There is something endearing and amazing about being home. The feeling as you step off the plan and you know where you are and everything in the universe clicks into place even if it’s only for a moment. It’s exhilarating and it’s been too long since she’s been here.

            Isa walks out of the claustrophobic tunnel connected the plan and the rest of the building and steps into the terminal of the London Int’l Airport with a rolling carry-on bag and a backpack pressed tight to her back. The airport is busy and loud, loud with accent familiar to her and a sense of relief washes over her. This is home.

            She checked a single bag and waited at the baggage claim in between someone returning from a business trip and a family of vacationing Americans in London for a layover to Milan. She idly flicked through her phone, letting the few people who knew she was returning (if only for a week or two) that she had landed safely and was not the next victim of a ‘Lost’ situation.

            The American family only had a two-hour layover and she advised them that this was not enough time to see the city, but they should come back with at least a few days on their hands. The British businessman ignored her almost entirely, which wasn’t surprising considering her state. She wondered how someone could suffer through a ten-hour flight and look like they had just popped out of their closet. She knew her eyeliner had to be everywhere but her eyes at this point, her clothes were wrinkled, and her hair was in a half-assed messy bun.

            The baggage carousel started with the whine of gears, an orange flashing light, and a small but alarming alarm. The initial feeding frenzy was enough to scare Isa away from the carousel from another fifteen minutes before she meandered over and pulled her bag off. She then made her way through customs and finally towards the exit of the airport where she was finally able to call a cab.

            Florence knew she had landed. Florence knew she was coming too; she hadn’t kept this a surprise. Rather, she didn’t want to. Admittedly last time she had kept it a surprise it had ended rather well on her end, but some secrets were too good to keep. This was one of them; she wanted Florence to know she was coming (mostly so she didn’t kill herself on a pile of records stepping in the door) she was so glad to be back.

            The characteristically rainy and grey skies of London were no longer dreary and depressing for her, but rather something welcoming her home. The central London buildings turned into more compact flats with rooftop gardens and their rainy feeling to the builds was equivalent to the never ending drizzle the came from the permanently clouded skies above. It was like getting a hug from an old friend, it was comforting and familiar and Isabella Summers knew for sure she was home.

            The permanent sunlight and life of LA looked nice on the outside. Without a second glance it looked like it was always summer and always paradise, but once you were there its artificial nature was suffocating and threatened to turn you into plastic if you didn’t reevaluate yourself every so often.

            When Florence’s flat comes into view on the horizon, Isa breathes out a sigh of relief. She knows she’ll breathe out an even deeper one when she’s in Florence’s arms again because _god_ there’s something so god damn comforting about the tall redhead holding her.

            The cab parks on the curb, Isa pays him, and grabs her bags out of the cab before walking over to the door of the flat and knocking. She was buzzing with excitement as she heard the lock on the door click and the door swung open and Florence stood in the doorway, grinning.

            Without warning Isa rushed into the other woman’s arms, hugging her tightly. She smelled like tea and herbs and magic and home and god she missed Florence she missed Florence so damn much. She had her face buried in the fabric of her girlfriend’s shirt, breathing deeply. She was positive she would never get enough of the way she smelled and the color of her hair and her eyes and just…everything. She could never ever get tired of this.

            “Hi.” Florence said, returning the hug with equal tightness and enthusiasm as she shut the door to her flat.

            “Hey there.” Isa whispered, her voice muffled by the red head’s shirt.

            Florence separated them a little bit, just enough so she could look into Isa’s eyes and Isa could find herself swimming in her impossible green ones once again. There was no hiding the grin that stretched across both of their faces. Her long, slender fingers traced Isa’s jawline and tipped her chin up ever so slightly so she could bend down and kiss her gently.

            Isa found herself smiling uncontrollably into the kiss, her arms wrapping around Florence’s neck gently to pull herself closer to Florence.

            “How was the flight?” Florence asked after they separated.

            “Torture.” Isa leaned in and quickly kissed her. “Way too long.”

            Florence laughed and Isa felt her stomach flutter at the sound. “Are you hungry?”

            “Yeah, I could probably use some food.” Isa agreed and she followed Florence down the hall and into the kitchen.

            There was something cathartic about being home. Yet there was something even more cathartic about having very stereotypical foods from your home laid out on a table. There was two cups of tea, a basket of fish and chips, and a few other assorted foods.

            “I swear LA doesn’t have anything on the fish and chips you can get here.” Isa said once they sat at the table.

            “And Skype doesn’t have anything on the real deal.”

            They both smiled and finished the chips and Isa helped Florence clean off the table and throw the dishes in the sink (they would be done later, maybe) and Isa found herself kissing Florence again until the backs of her legs hit the kitchen table.

            Isa hopped up on the table, refusing to break the kiss that had grown more intense between her and Florence. She had her legs wrapped around her girlfriend’s waist in an attempt to pull her closer. Florence’s hands were slowly sliding up her sides under her shirt and Isa heard herself let out a breathy moan and Florence laughed quietly, kissing her neck.

            “Can I take this off?” She asked quietly, tugging at the bottom of Isa’s shirt gently.

            “Only if I can take yours off.”

            Florence laughed and nodded before helping Isa out of her shirt and then taking hers off as well.

            She needed to be close to her. Even since her surprise visit it had been too, _too_ long. She missed Florence like crazy. And _god_ all she can think is how much she loves her as she slowly strips her down and is pressing kisses all over her body, setting her on fire over and over again.

            Florence gently pushes her back against the table, kissing her neck, and then taking her time _again_ to make her way between her legs and by the time she’s there she’s barely making coherent words anymore because it feels like all of her is on fire in slow motion.

            It’s all in slow motion.

            It happens in slow motion as Florence rises again and Isa can barely get herself off the table before she kisses Florence again and lets her know how much she missed her how much she loves her because she knows that there are absolutely not enough words to tell her.

            She presses her forehead to Florence’s after it all, gently laughing.

            “I love you.”

            “I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me at machinerisms.tumblr.com


End file.
